Siyabonga Njica

Circumstances Made Me Who I Am

Circumstances made me who I am.
Bred in a village of villains where humans eat humans,
Playgrounds drenched with blood and remains of innocent man.
Street corners rife of cacophonies of gunshots.
One shot shatters a mother of two,
With bread and milk and a baby infant on her ailing back,
The innocent are under attack.
Black on black prominent figures of the moralities society sadly lacks. I say:
Bring back our discarded past.
Where black masses threw stones because of tear gas to our oppressors and not our neighbours.
Where Black Panthers spoke of revolution against the system which tried to enslave, brainwash and encage us. Black now infamous.
We have watched the white man manipulate, tame, and rape us.
Prime products of the vicinities that raised us,
We are subjected to mediocrity: either criminals or murderers.
In passive prayer we plead for justice and forgiveness,
Due to sinister sins committed that winter when we couldn't feed our livers and starving children. It is a hard time for living. Through these solicit eyes I have visualized mans plights and seen it all.
How brown bottles conclude ones content,
Infidelity and hypocrisy a grounding common flaw.
Through these solicit eyes bitter cries have dried tenacious tears weep no more,
For government aid is a sinister trade that betrays and tames potential of the disadvantaged and poor,
Such deception our people endure.
Circumstances made me who I am.
Cultivated in unfamiliar surroundings,
Within a home that lacks principles and boundaries,
Household constantly filled with criminals and drunkies,
A shebeen hot-spot,
I drank peoples glasses when they were not watching.
See I was raised by a female with minimum wage,
A constraint that delays a childhood's blissful privilege to play,
No games I behaved rather strange than young boys my age,
So brave. The first time I met my father was in jail.
See I was a descendant amid a lineage of daughters and sons,
Who's hearts like drums lost rhythm and echoed screams of forgotten sounds,
So young and unfound,
'Rest In Peace' became common nouns,
Guardians gone too soon to the underground,
I lived a savage life with a face filled with frowns.
Circumstances made me who I am.
Hands held high in a pleading beggars position,
Grieving, nonetheless believing that the privilege will some day listen
To the echoes of my people,
Please give them something to believe in.
Because force-fed religion is hypocritical and deceiving,
This education system produces statistics instead of naturing wisdom to this generation of promising children.
So much for wisdom,
A mockery to the late great Hector Pieterson.
Circumstances made me who I am.
Now rise above your circumstances.

Poem Submitted: Thursday, December 20, 2012

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Comments about Circumstances Made Me Who I Am by Siyabonga Njica

  • Nobomi TshongweniNobomi Tshongweni (12/24/2012 7:28:00 AM)

    Oh my word Siya!

    Its beautiful! Powerful, oozing with truth, something we've learned to neglect...

    Well written ;) x

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